


Actually Space Married

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Whouffaldi Week 2016 [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Whouffaldi Week 2016, fluff is my superpower, i cannot be stopped, obscene amounts of fluff, space married, this is absolutely how it would go down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara are married in a quiet, simple ceremony.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And if you believe that, I'd like to sell you tickets for a ride on this lovely space train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Actually Space Married

**Author's Note:**

> Day Seven - [March 27]: ‘i do’, running, lips.

In retrospect, she really should have seen it coming. 

It should have been obvious.

When the Doctor told her he’d found the perfect place for them to get married, she should have known something was going to wrong.  The more innocent their trip, the more things were guaranteed to go horribly sideways.  It was what always happened.  But he was so happy and excited, and she couldn’t help but get caught up in his enthusiasm.

Clara wore a TARDIS blue dress for the occasion, with a wide skirt that stopped just at her knee.  She also wore ankle boots with a sturdy heel, because when doing _anything_ with the Doctor, it was best to have shoes in which you could run.

He had the good sense to wear his doctory red velvet coat instead of a hoodie, t-shirts, and plaid trousers.  While Clara had a weakness for his rock star look, it wasn’t exactly wedding appropriate.  Surprisingly, he’d made the decision himself, without her saying anything.  He told her he’d once married River in a battlefield ceremony when time was unraveling and he was in a ship disguised as himself to prevent her from killing him.  Clara was still trying to process that when he explained that he wanted to do things properly this time.

However, the Doctor’s idea of what constituted _doing things properly_ differed from most of the sentient universe.

Everything started normally enough.  They stood before the official, holding hands and listening to the ceremony.  It was just them – they knew so many people from so many times that if they started inviting guests there wouldn’t be a space large enough to contain them all, and would probably instigate several paradoxes and at least three wars.  About halfway through, when they were starting to exchange vows, Clara noticed that the official was starting to spasm oddly.  She brushed it off at first – maybe he had some kind of tic, or maybe it was some kind of species thing.  When his entire body convulsed and several tentacle-like appendages burst from his back and attempted to capture them, she realized that they had a serious problem.

Still holding hands, they turned and ran for the TARDIS, the creature right behind them.

‘Doctor, what is that thing?’ Clara demanded as she glanced over her shoulder, ducking to avoid the tentacle that came flying at her head.

‘It’s a Rahkarian Lurker.  They like to disguise themselves as other species to lure in prey.’  He frowned.  ‘That explains all the odd reviews.  They sounded exactly the same.  He probably wrote them himself to bring in customers.’

She stared at him, the shock almost enough to make her pause.  Almost.  She’d been doing this long enough to know that you _never_ pause when running for your life from the scary monster that wants to eat you.  ‘Doctor, did you _space google_ people to perform our wedding?’

His eyebrows twitched guiltily.  ‘There’s no such thing as space google, Clara,’ he yelled, pulling her down a corridor.

‘Don’t try to avoid the question, Doctor!’

‘I may have done some research in the TARDIS.  How else was I supposed to find someone?’

Fair point.  But since the official he’d chosen was currently trying to eat them, she wasn’t impressed with his researching skills.  ‘You just picked the first one that came up, didn’t you?’

‘You can’t prove that.  I cleared my browser history.’

‘I could just ask the TARDIS.  She’d tell me.’

They ducked around another corner and ran into a dead end.  The Doctor knocked his head against the wall.  ‘Sometimes I miss the days when you two didn’t get along.’

The Lurker cleared its throat behind them.  ‘You know, maybe marriage isn’t the best option for you at this time.  I also do couples counseling.  You sound like you have some deep-seated conflicts that need to be resolved.’

They turned, Doctor glaring at it.  ‘What do you know?  You’re not even a real wedding official.’

The Lurker rubbed two tentacles together sheepishly; the rest shot forward and wrapped around Clara and the Doctor.  ‘I am, actually.  Licensed and everything.  But there’s no law that says I can’t eat the wedding party after the ceremony.’

Clara pounded on the tentacle wrapped around her waist.  ‘Maybe not, but it’s in really poor taste.’

‘Oh, I agree.  And I really hated to interrupt the ceremony, but it’s been a while since I’ve eaten, and, well, I got impatient.  I’m rather peckish; you understand.’  It spread its free tentacles in a _what can you do_ gesture.

The Doctor crossed his arms, hostility radiating from his eyebrows.  ‘Well I for one am extremely dissatisfied.  We came here expecting a wedding, and find out you’re planning on having us for dinner instead.  The least you can do is finish marrying us.’

The Lurker cocked its body, blinking its single eye thoughtfully.  ‘I suppose that’s a reasonable request.  Very well, where were we?’

Clara could tell the Doctor was up to something, so she offered helpfully, ‘We’d just finished the vows.’

‘Oh, of course.  Well then, do you, Clara Oswald, take the Doctor to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in regeneration, and in all of time and space?’

Clara smiled at the Doctor.  ‘I do.’

‘And do you, Doctor, take Clara Oswald to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in regeneration, and in all of time and space?’

The Doctor smiled back.  ‘I do.’

The Lurker brought them closer together.  ‘Now kiss.’

They obeyed.  The Doctor whispered against her lips, ‘Can you get your shoe off?’

‘Yeah…?’

‘Give it to me, quick!’

‘So romantic,’ sighed the Lurker, oblivious to their conversation.  ‘I’m just sorry you’ll miss the honeymoon.’  It began pulling them back toward its mouth.

Fortunately, her arms were free, and she could slip off the boot easily.  She handed it to the Doctor, who waited until they were right next to the Lurker’s body to drive the heel into its eye.  It squealed horribly in outraged pain, dropping them to draw all its tentacles protectively around its injured eye.

The doctor grabbed Clara’s hand.  ‘Come on, I’m pretty sure the TARDIS is this way!’

She hopped behind him.  ‘Doctor wait!  Let me get my other shoe off so I can run.’

‘No time!’  He turned and scooped her up in his arms before taking off down the corridor.  ‘I know what went wrong – I turned right when I should have turned left.’  He corrected the mistake, and there was the police box.  Behind them, the Lurker was screaming and pulling itself blindly along the hall.  ‘Quick Clara – open the door!’

She snapped her fingers obligingly, and the TARDIS door opened.  The Doctor launched them through, kicking the door shut behind them.  He didn’t stop until they reached the console, holding Clara while she worked the levers to get them out of there.  When she heard the reassuring wheeze of the TARDIS dematerializing, she relaxed against the Doctor’s chest.  ‘Well.  I know carrying the bride over the threshold is traditional, but this is ridiculous.’

He smirked down at her.  ‘It’s us, Clara.  Did you really expect anything different?’

She made a show of considering it.  ‘No, I can’t say that I did.’  She shifted slightly, and the Doctor’s arms tightened around her.  ‘You can put me down now, you know.’

‘I don’t know.  I’m comfortable.  Although…’  He climbed to the second story and sat in his chair, settling Clara on his lap.  ‘That’s better.  Hello, Mrs.  Disco.’

‘Oh no.  I refuse to take the name Disco.’

‘Mrs. Funkenstein?’

‘Seriously?  What are you, twelve?’

‘Well actually-’

‘No.’

‘Mrs. Smith?’

‘Better.  Kind of boring, though.’

‘Hey!  I’ve used John Smith as an alias for _years_.’

‘Doesn’t make it not-boring.  How about Oswald-Smith?’

‘Oswald-Smith.’  He rolled it around, testing the sounds.  ‘Clara Oswald-Smith.  The Doctor and Clara Oswald-Smith.’  He grinned.  ‘I like it.  Hello, Mrs.  Oswald-Smith.’

‘Hello, Mr. Oswald-Smith.’  She tugged her space husband forward by his jacket, and he obligingly bent his head, kissing his space wife deeply.

There would be more adventures, more monsters trying to eat them, more running, and eventually a beautiful pair of Hybrid twins that they would name Rey and Leo, but for now, the only adventure that mattered was each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it, the last prompt for Whouffaldi Week! I can't believe I survived. Or did I? I could have expired without realizing it, and will spend eternity writing Whouffaldi fluff...  
> I feel like doing a wedding is a pretty obvious way to go, but I hope I made it interesting anyway. Because honesty, if they did get married, something like this would absolutely happen.  
> I might go back and do the prompt for day two - probably turn it into a Hybrid fic, because why not. I also want go back and actually write the food fight from Force Feeding, because I don't feel like I did it justice. Otherwise, I'm done.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
